


Don't Be Alarmed

by ThetaSigma



Series: Mad Doc Watson [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, John is a BAMF, M/M, Mad Doc Watson, Mycroft Being Mycroft, Mycroft is definitely not good at this bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-29 17:22:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13931736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThetaSigma/pseuds/ThetaSigma
Summary: Interlude with Mycroft, after the events ofHis Name Literally Opens Doors. Mycroft has an assignment for Mad Doc Watson.John's done taking orders. Mycroft finally met his match.





	Don't Be Alarmed

It has been a week since the case wrapped up and they snuck into that base (technically, it wasn’t really sneaking in – yes, Sherlock had used Mycroft’s ID, but it was John who had gotten them leave to stay simply by being _him_ ).

It’s been a really nice week, actually. Sherlock hasn’t had another case, but he hasn’t started sulking about that yet, far too distracted by all the things he learned about John from the last one. There’s been a _lot_ of frankly incredible sex.

John’s reading the paper, dressed in a comfortable jumper and jeans (and Sherlock now thoroughly approves of them, _delights_ in how ordinary John appears when he’s nothing but, like John has a secret identity), and he’s content. Generally delighted with the world (the morning blowjobs might’ve helped with that). Sherlock’s idly plucking strings on his violin, lost in thought. It doesn’t look like it’s going to take a dark turn, though, so John’s more than happy to leave him to it and catch up on the news a bit. Sex at all hours is fantastic, but he’s at least three days behind on the papers.

Sherlock scowls as they hear footsteps. “Mycroft,” he growls.

John doesn’t even let the thought of Mycroft in their flat bring him down. “Well, luckily you already have your violin out, so you can go straight to making ungodly noises at him.”

The door opens, and Sherlock calls out, “Piss off, Mycroft!”

John smothers a laugh. “Morning, Mycroft.”

“It’s nearly one in the afternoon,” Mycroft replies drily.

“Afternoon, then,” John replies cheerfully, not feeling like getting into a sparring match with Mycroft today. That’s more Sherlock’s area, anyway.

“I’m not interested,” Sherlock says as he glances at the file in Mycroft’s hand. “You’ve got people for that.”

“I’m not here to talk to you, Sherlock,” Mycroft replies. “I’m here for John.”

Sherlock sits up a bit at this. “ _John?_ ” he asks dubiously. John doesn’t take offence at that – based on what they think Mycroft knows about him, it is unlikely for Mycroft to seek him out.

“Indeed.” Mycroft settles on the couch primly, and John flashes back to last night, when he’d bent Sherlock over that very spot and fucked him until Sherlock was hoarse from screaming, writhing and pleading to come already. He’s _pretty_ sure they cleaned up all the come that got on the couch, but, well, if not… John’s more than perverse enough to enjoy the knowledge Mycroft might be sitting on that. It’s utterly juvenile of him, but any time he thinks of being less of an arse, he remembers Mycroft saying snidely, “Don’t be alarmed, it has to do with sex”. Frankly, after that, Mycroft deserves it (god, that whole bit had been an exercise in self-restraint. If they hadn’t been at _Buckingham Palace_ , John would’ve made some very snide comments – like that they were _married_ , thank you (only days before), and that they’d had sex not 12 hours previous, and Sherlock hadn’t once been _alarmed_. Turned on, pleading, screaming, writhing, sensual, absolutely, but not alarmed. But they had been at the Palace, so John had kept his mouth shut and resolutely not pictured any of it).

“What is it, Mycroft?” John asks reluctantly, dragging his mind back from memories of last night. Sherlock’s repressing a smirk, and Mycroft looks fairly discomfited. He looks like he’s debating whether or not to move spots (wouldn’t do him any good, John thinks viciously – they’ve fucked in every possible spot in the flat by now. Including every bare spot of wall).

“First, John, I want to apologise for the way we met,” Mycroft says.

“You’re _years_ late on that one, Mycroft. But good, I’m glad you finally recognise kidnapping people and trying to be vaguely threatening is bad. Keep it up, and you may learn social niceties.” 

Mycroft looks like he’s trying not to grit his teeth. “I was… unaware, at the time, of just who I was speaking with. General.”

John shoots a glare at Sherlock.

“ _I_ didn’t tell him!” Sherlock protests.

John actually believes him. Sherlock’s been fairly delighted about having this secret from Mycroft, and John had impressed on him why Mycroft knowing John and General Watson were the same person was a very very bad thing.

“No, I found out in other ways. John, had I known, I would never have done that.”

“See, Mycroft, that’s really not the point. You should apologise because it’s _wrong_ to kidnap people off the streets and then try to bribe them into spying on your brother, not because you finally worked out I’m Mad Doc Watson and therefore was perfectly able to kill you before your assistant could react. I mean, I’ll take the apology anyway, God knows I’m not getting one otherwise, but you’re really missing the point.” He pauses, then a vicious grin crosses his face. “Do you know, by the way, why I didn’t bother fighting that day, Mycroft?”

Mycroft feels very wrong-footed. He shakes his head.

“It’s because it was absolutely clear you weren’t a threat,” John says pleasantly. “A silly man with an umbrella in an empty warehouse? Good lord. As theatre, it was, at best, mediocre. As a threat? Utterly pathetic.”

Sherlock is _beaming_ at John. God, he loves this man.

Mycroft clears his throat. “I… Er. Well. Thank you, I suppose. Given what I’ve seen of your work, I’m quite pleased to know you didn’t consider me a threat.” It’s possibly the least Mycroft thing either of them has heard him say, but all three of them know exactly what John’s capable of. 

John gives him a razor-sharp smile. “I know you’re my brother-in-law now, Mycroft, but I’d work on making sure you stay ‘not a threat’. Now. What did you want with me?”

“I wanted to offer you an assignment. MI5.”

“No,” John says immediately. “I’m not your minion, Mycroft. I get plenty of excitement chasing after Sherlock, and I really don’t want to report to you. I enjoy not having a boss.”

“I thought my brother was your boss.”

John laughs. “Oh, no. Definitely not. Especially when I have him flat on his back.” He smiles at Mycroft and sips his tea.

Mycroft blinks several times, clearly trying _not_ to picture it (Sherlock, on the other hand, is clearly picturing it and quite happy with the images resulting).

“Would you at least look at it, consider it?” Mycroft wheedles. “It’s highly sensitive work – needs your touch. Queen and country,” he adds.

“Queen and country got plenty out of me,” John replies. “And my touch is not sensitive, it’s more ‘scorched Earth’, which I’m pretty sure is not what MI5 needs. You have people for this. Go bug them.”

“I haven’t even told you what it is yet.”

“And I don’t care. Let me make something very, very clear, Mycroft: I am not working for you. I am not an asset for you to exploit. I don’t take orders from you. I may be General Watson, but at this point, I get to decide when I take that role, and I am perfectly content with it staying that way. I am extremely happy with the way my life is right now, and I have no desire to change it. So. Take your file, and your assignments, and your attempts to talk me into it, and _fuck right off_.”

Sherlock nods. “Yes, definitely leave, Mycroft. _I_ have an assignment for John right now, one I think he _will_ take.” He gives John a lascivious grin.

Mycroft stands, looking rather uncomfortable.

“Don’t be alarmed, Mycroft,” John says sweetly. “It has to do with sex.”

Sherlock reaches the end of his patience and _launches_ himself at John, planting kisses anywhere and everywhere he can reach.

Mycroft lets himself out of the flat very, very quickly, not wanting to see what comes next (laughter follows him down the stairs, and if he were a better man, he’d admit he rather deserved that). 

Still, though. The file’s on the couch. Surely one of them will be curious enough to at least look at it.

*** 

They never look at the file. John finds it several days later, mostly under the couch, and goes, “Sherlock, this is probably highly confidential, right?”

Sherlock hums. “Probably.”

“Well. It’s a bit warm, but I think we can tolerate a fire today. Least I can do is burn it.” He grins. “I really hope it’s not Mycroft’s only copy.”

“Would serve the pompous git right if it were. I’ll start the fire.”

Mycroft doesn’t try again to bring John in on a case. Sherlock, of course he does, which means John comes along, but John alone? Never. He’s surprised to discover he’s actually a little _scared_ of John. He’s fairly sure John wouldn’t hurt him (family, and all that), but he isn’t quite able to push the issue. 

From what he understands, General Watson is nothing short of fucking _terrifying_. Sherlock notices this and practically vibrates with pleasure that there’s finally someone Mycroft is _scared_ of. That the person that discomfits Mycroft so much is Sherlock’s _husband_ is icing on the cake.

**Author's Note:**

> So I hope you guys are enjoying this! I received lovely comments on His Name..., and can say a lot of those ideas are already written and waiting to be posted, or definitely happening! 
> 
> Feel free to let me know if there's something you would really like to see in this series!


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